Destiny
by Lorr
Summary: This is a short missing scene for Vegas. Beware - spoilers!


**Title:** Destiny

**Author:** Lorr

**Genre/Rating:** Missing scene/General

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Richard Woolsey, Jennifer Keller, Todd

**Disclaimer:** The characters and universe belong to others. I do enjoy playing here.

**Spoilers:** This is a missing scene for Vegas, so it is a spoiler.

**Background:** This takes place after the end of the episode. I had a little inspiration, so I had to write it.

Let me know what you think.

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**Destiny**

"Where is that clean up crew?" McKay demanded.

"ETA is two minutes, Sir." Harriman responded crisply.

"Medical team?"

"With the clean up crew, Doctor."

"Good." McKay stared at the screen. "He'd better be alive."

Woolsey was surprised by the scientist's earnest tone.

McKay caught the expression and frowned, not wanting to reveal more of the thoughts going through his mind. His tone was abrupt. "I don't know about you, but I'd like to thank the guy who saved our collective asses."

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_Good one, John. Next time, keep going._

The sun was setting. Or, was it that he was dying? Darkness, suddenly getting cold. Probably dying.

_Did it work? Was it worth it?_

The buzzing in his ears was getting louder. He'd been too close to the explosion. His hearing was going to be affected for days, at least.

_For days?_ _You're going to be dead in minutes, you dumb ass_. He grunted. It hurt to breath. _At least the bastard didn't get to suck me dry._

John Sheppard closed his eyes. He didn't see the four Pave Hawks and single UH-60Q Medevac approach at low altitude. He didn't feel the sand and dust swirling about under their spinning blades as they landed, or hear the pounding feet of the Marines jumping out and taking up positions or the voices of the scientists shouting at each other.

"He's there!" The co-pilot pointed through the windscreen as the helicopter swooped in towards the remains of the demolished trailer. "Near the car, Capt. Hillier."

"Set her down as close as possible." A young Air Force captain instructed him. The man on the ground was motionless. Hillier turned and grabbed his medical kit. The rest of his team was waiting next to the door. They were out as soon as wheels touched ground. "Hurry!"

The activity around the four MH-60Gs was forgotten. The medical team focused on the man.

"He's alive, Captain." It was difficult to tell but one of the medics found a thready pulse and could detect a slight rise and fall in his chest. She glanced up at the doctor. "Barely."

The doctor lifted the jacket and shirt off Sheppard's left shoulder and pressed a wad of gauze on the bullet hole. He glanced up at the still swirling sand and dust and shouted above the din of the engines. "Okay, let's get him on the stretcher. We can't do anything with all this crap flying around."

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"Ready, Sir?" The pilot glanced back over his shoulder. They'd been on the ground for less than three minutes.

"Go!" Capt. Hillier shouted back as he reconnected his radio. His team was already cutting away the man's clothing. In less than two minutes, his vitals were taken, oxygen started and he was attached to a heart monitor. A minute later an IV was running. He could see the wound was in a potentially dangerous place and the caliber of the slug meant there was a lot of damage.

First things first, they had to make sure he survived. Whoever this guy was and whatever he was doing out in the desert, he was important. The chatter over the radio on the way out, albeit brief and somewhat cryptic, implied he'd saved everyone's butts. Everyone as in the whole world. Not as if that fact mattered to the doctor and his team. He was a human being in danger of losing his life. Just on principle, the captain didn't want that to happen.

Hillier turned on his penlight and lifted one of the man's eyelids. At the first pass of the light, the eyes squeezed shut then blinked. The hazel eyes opened and focused on him. A moment of fear was replaced by understanding before they closed again.

"Lieutenant, what's our ETA?"

"Six minutes, Sir." The pilot knew the base had their position pinpointed, even though they were flying close to the deck. "They're ready for you at the infirmary."

"Good." Now they just had to keep him stable for those six minutes.

"Sir, his pressure's falling. It's 72 over 43."

"Dammit! Is that IV wide open?"

"Yes, Sir."

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McKay stood to one side as the helicopter settled on the landing pad. He wondered why he was feeling such a deep level of anxiety for this man, but kept a tight lid on it.

The stretcher was pulled off the aircraft. He could see someone jump up on it, knees straddling the still body, and start chest compressions. Another began pumping a bag-valve-mask as they hurried to the doors.

"We need a crash cart!" the man straddling Sheppard shouted as they disappeared through the emergency room doors.

McKay tried to follow but was pushed back with a curt order to stay out by a small but determined nurse. He reluctantly complied, knowing he'd just be in the way. Besides, blood and tubes and such things were not really something he liked to see.

The wait seemed interminable. He called for a technician to bring his laptop, but even analyzing the data from the incident wasn't enough to distract him. He alternately tried to work and paced the room, waiting for news. The door opened at last and Dr. Keller emerged.

"Finally!" He stood up and dropped the computer on his chair. "What's going on? How is he?"

She held up a hand. "They got him back…"

"What do you mean?"

"His heart stopped, Rodney. He died." She held her hand up again when he gaped at her in shock. "He was gone less than three minutes. They got him back, and now he's in surgery."

"Don't do that to me." McKay ground out between clenched teeth. He took a deep breath. "Okay. What's the prognosis?"

The doctor shook her head slowly. "We won't know until he's out of surgery. Dr. Thompson is an excellent surgeon. If anyone can pull Detective Sheppard through, it's him."

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"He's tough, I'll give him that." Thompson raked a hand through his graying hair.

"And? Well?" McKay contained his desire to yell at the doctor. Waiting for anything was not his strong suit and he'd been waiting for more than three hours.

The surgeon blinked. "Of course. He'll live. He shouldn't have, but like I said, he's tough. There was a lot of internal bleeding and his left lung collapsed."

"But, that's fixed, right?"

"Yes. There is some damage to his left shoulder that will take more surgery, but he should get most function back. It'll just take some time."

"How much? Function and time, I mean?"

Thompson thought for a moment. "I can only guess at this point, but it could be as much as 95% mobility and strength. It will take a few months, maybe as many as six. A lot'll depend on him and how hard he works on it."

It was McKay's turn to think. He slowly nodded. "When can I see him?"

"Not…" The surgeon checked his watch. It was nearly 2:00 a.m. "I want to keep him sedated for a while. If he's doing okay, you can see him tonight."

It would have to do. McKay nodded again then turned on his heel and left.

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Woolsey stared in disbelief. "What are you thinking? We can't allow this man into the program."

McKay regarded him as if he was a naïve child. "His record can be cleared and he can be reinstated. I'm sure the military can arrange that."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, Sheppard is smart. He figured out how to find the Wraith when we…" he waved one hand to indicate the facility and everyone in it, "didn't have the first clue. Then, he distracted him long enough to allow us to take him out. We can use people like that."

"The man's a mess. He's in debt, he gambles." Woolsey cast about in his mind for more reasons. "For crying out loud, he was running away with a more than a hundred thousand of the Wraith's money."

"I know. The debts have been paid off and the Wraith doesn't need the money any more."

"McKay."

"Look, he went back. He nearly died saving the world. He did die, as a matter of fact." McKay became thoughtful. "If he's anything like the John Sheppard I met in the other reality, and I believe he is, we need him."

Woolsey was still skeptical. He cleared his throat. "Okay, what makes you think he'll agree?"

"Call it a hunch." McKay didn't want to admit it might just be wishful thinking. He started walking down the hallway. "I just want to give him the option."

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Consciousness returned slowly and was, for some time, fuzzy. Gradually, the fuzziness gave way to thirst then pain. _Not dead, or this is a really weird kind of hell._ Sheppard opened his eyes.

"Detective. Glad to see you're awake." A young woman smiled at him. She was familiar, but he could quite remember why. "How are you feeling?"

He tried to talk, but only a hoarse croak emerged from his dry throat.

"Here, have a piece of ice." She smiled again and proffered a spoon with a chip of ice on it. He took it gratefully and let the cool water from it hydrate his mouth and throat. "How's your shoulder?"

"Hurts." It was still a croak, but at least it was intelligible. He looked around. "Where?"

She adjusted the IV flow and pressed the feed on his morphine drip. "That should help the pain. Would you like more ice?"

Sheppard nodded. While it melted, the woman checked the heart and pulse-ox monitors, picked up a data tablet and made a few entries. He was beginning to remember her.

"You're the doctor from the morgue. Keller. Right?"

She smiled and nodded. "You have a good memory, Detective."

"Where am I?" He slurred. The morphine was making him sleepy. He didn't want to sleep just yet, but at least the pain was subsiding.

"Don't worry about that right now. I think Dr. McKay wants to talk to you later. He'll answer your questions."

His eyes slid shut and the too young doctor was forgotten.

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"Good evening, Detective." McKay was relieved, but kept his smile tight. He had to play this right.

"McKay." Sheppard winced as he reached up to scratch the stubble on his check. "I guess I have you to thank for sending in the cavalry. Thanks."

The scientist blinked, taken off guard by the comment. "Uh, yeah. Well, it's the least I could do after you saved the world. How are you feeling?"

Sheppard quirked his head sideways. "Like I've been shot. Apart from that, okay, I guess."

"Good, good." He paused. "Well, the doctors say that you should regain almost full function in your shoulder. It'll take some time, but you'll be okay."

"I know." Sheppard's eye's narrowed. "What now? I know too many of your secrets to let me just walk out of here."

"Well, I have a proposition for you."

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In an underground cell in another part of the facility, a starving, slightly insane Wraith chuckled. _Yes, John Sheppard. You have seen your destiny._

The End


End file.
